Canopy EP

This Bay Area duo is another entry in the post-Animal Collective dream-pop stakes, with swirling electronics and songs about water and sleep.

Painted Palms' debut EP Canopy feels instantly nostalgic, and I realize that's about as helpfully descriptive in 2011 as saying "it has keyboards." If only it were merely the typically fond recollection of Toejam & Earl or Kid and Play's filmography or some other token of childhood ephemera. Nah, Painted Palms get me thinking more existentially-- is it possible to be nostalgic for something that's not even really over? Or, to put it another way, is the churn for subgenres so incessant that Painted Palms' "psych-pop collage" is already second-gen while the likes of Keepaway and Sun Airway have achieved the role of elder statesmen?

Hell, the Bay Area duo probably just wanted to make a breezy and listenable EP, which they've done to a certain extent. But dig their turquoise and gold-lashed cover art, whimsical name, and an admirable if not particularly achievable promise of "Brill Building pop, buoyant electronics, and encompassing textural experimentation." I doubt Painted Palms had their "burning bush" moment immediately after hearing "Lion in a Coma" for the first time, but it's in the dead center of the post-Merriweather Post Pavilion status quo: jangly guitars replaced by swirling sampler emission, verses and choruses traded for alternating chants, bummed indifference scrapped in favor of wonderment at our own functionality. Meanwhile, all space filled with so much aquatic burbling that hydrogen and oxygen deserve songwriting credits. It's the same old vanilla indie rock, albeit dipped in rainbow sprinkles.

But just because Painted Palms don't really do anything new doesn't mean they can't do it well. They're definitely not trying to come off like some lo-fi bedroom act with a Korg and a dream, and the production is slick, loud, and full-bodied. The same goes for Reese Donohue's vocals, undeniably derivative but nonetheless committed to its swooping derring-do without using reverb or dulling overdubs as a safety net. On the summer-lovin' title track, Donohue sings, "We climbed up to the rooftops so we could feel the air... your hand was touching mine but I barely felt it at all," making sure you can still feel the butterflies.

Painted Palms are catchy enough to grab your attention within the first minute during your daily mp3 blog recon, but they lack the personality to really stick. This is particularly true of "Falling Asleep", which introduces an instantly likeable melody before quickly getting distracted by strings of spangly electro baubles, while "Water Hymn" and the title track simply tread in whirlpools of squishy atmopsherics. I mean, I know it's also reductive to say that the vocal triggers and thumping house beat of "All of Us" really hope you haven't heard Delorean's "Seasun" while Donohue's vocals sound exactly like Panda Bear to the point where ignoring it is lying by omission. But all you're really left with here are the RIYLs instead of an identity Painted Palms can call their own.